


A Dream Overdue

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Gen, Literally crying over pizza, This probably qualifies as crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything they went through, everything they fought for... It all comes down to this. The first pizza back on the planet, and a reminder of what beauty really means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream Overdue

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, I don't have much to say. It's a happy ending. Eiffel literally cries over pizza. Onto the pizza. Thankfully, they're not splitting. It was fun to write, so there's that!
> 
> Oh, wait. I still struggle with writing Hera's glitching and also I find the idea of her being in a smartphone at least sometimes weirdly... beneficial? Very mobile, though she'll probably want and in an ideal world get something that she can move herself. But for now, this.

Eiffel arranged himself carefully in his chair, perching as close to the edge as he could and leaning to hook his arms over the back. He closed his eyes, and tried to breathe through his mouth. The smell was torture.

Okay, no, it wasn’t. Hacking his lungs out through his nose, that was torture. Spiraling hopelessly away into space and breathing in certain death with every whiff of limited oxygen, that was torture. 

So the smell of pizza should have been, like, the opposite. 

He sighed and stretched out under the table. His foot connected with the leg, and he shifted for extra room.

“Eiffel - Doug! Sit up straight; you’re not twelve.”

He jerked upright and bumped into the back of his own chair. Apparently, that hadn’t been _the_ leg” he’d kicked, but  _her_ leg.

“Sorry, Comm- Minko- Renée?” Eiffel cycled through his options, and winced. “I mean, sorry. Wasn’t paying attention. Trying to relax. You know.”

Minkowski rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Of course, you weren’t, and we all are. And I know, it’s not easy. So try to avoid casualties, like my shins, please.”

He grinned at her. “Do you have to be so hard on me? It’s not like one of my trademark mistakes will get us sucked into the void anymore.”

“A-a-actually, Doug, I think that was an attempt at… affectionate teasing on our glorious commander’s part. A-a-at least, initially,” Hera said. A smartphone sat on a portable stand in place of one of the plates. The speakers still sucked, and the hardware led to some cramping, but technology had come a long way since they’d left Earth.

“Oh, reeeally?” Eiffel waggled his eyebrows at Minkowski. 

She actually quirked a smile, but she shook her head and said, “Thanks, Hera. You’re a big help.”

“I aim to please,” Hera chirped. 

“I owe you one, my dear,” Eiffel promised. “Okay, more like six, but… One day, we’re gonna get you some kind of awesome robo-suit with... taste receptors... so you can really join us for dinner. How about that?”

“I’d l-l-like that. With the way you’ve been going on, I have to admit, I’m a little curious about pizza,” Hera ventured. “It seems like it must be greater than the sum of its parts. Not that its parts are in any way deficient, from what I can tell, but… I… d-d-don’t know if it’s something I’d class as d-d-divine.”

“And he’s got weird taste in toppings, too,” Minkowski added, crossing her arms. “Pineapple, really? If you’d gone with something sensible, like mushroom, we could’ve just split one. But no.”

“Hey! Pineapple on pizza is delicious. The perfect balance between sweet and savory. But seriously.” He reached across the table, paused, and asked, “D’you mind?”

“Go ahead,” Hera said.

He picked her up and held her smartphone in front of his face, so he could look her right in the camera. “Listen, Hera. It doesn’t get any better than pizza. Pizza is what I was fighting for. Pizza’s all I had waiting for me at home.” 

“Um… Given that it’s made to order, I don’t think… anything was waiting for you,” Hera replied. 

“You just don’t get it,” he sighed, and stared up at the ceiling, painted in vibrant reds and yellows, as if it held the key to higher heavens. “No one understands me.”

“I don’t,” Minkowski admitted. “But you know what? Everyone has their passions. Knock yourself out.” She nodded and tilted her head, indicated the space behind him. 

He turned. He gasped. Hera saw him raise a hand to his face. From the angle, it was impossible to tell, but it looked like he might have been wiping away drool. Ew. The way he was holding her, too, meant that she couldn’t get her first live glimpse of the ambrosia in question.

“Hey, Doug?” Hera prodded. He turned back slowly, and set her down in her stand, as the waitress arranged stands in the center of the table and set the pizzas on top of them. 

“There you go, folks!” The waitress clapped her free hands together. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“No… No,” Eiffel whispered, his eyes shining with reverence. “I… We… need some alone time.”

She gave them all an odd look, and Minkowski nodded. She reminded herself to leave a good tip. “We’re fine. Thank you.”

The waitress left, and Minkowski returned her attention to her ex-comms officer. There was, it appeared, some cause for concern. Eiffel leaned forward, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. His shoulders were shaking.

“Doug? Are you crying?” She asked, as she stood up. She grabbed his plate from in front of him and did him the favor of putting a slice on it. She served herself and sat back down, watching him warily.

“I… I…” His voice trembled, too, struggling with even those few syllables. “Oh, god…”

“I think he is. Doug? Are you o-o-okay?” Hera probed.

“Yes! It’s just… s-so beautiful…” He was definitely crying. A full-on sob threaded its way through his voice, but he looked up, and grinned again through the tears. “I thought I’d never see one again, you know?”

“Well… There it is. So… Are you going to eat it?” Minkowski suggested delicately. She thought about reaching out to pat his hand or otherwise comfort him, but she didn’t want to get bitten. What happened next convinced her she’d made the right choice.

“Hell, yes!” He exclaimed, through his tears. He picked up the slice she’d readied for him, and shoved over half of it in his mouth at once. Several pieces of pineapple slide off, one onto his plate and several into his lap. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, dear,” Hera murmured. 

Minkowski leaned down, and whispered to Hera, “I didn’t see that coming. I probably should have, but-”

She was cut off by a series of loud, muffled moans of delight. People were staring. Eiffel hadn’t stopped crying, on top of everything. Hera remarked, “I’m amazed he’s not choking.”

Minkowski snorted. “I said he could knock himself out, and I meant it. If he swoons, though, I’m not catching him.”

“Yes, you would,” Hera said.

The former commander straightened. She looked down at both crewmembers, both people she’d spent eight lightyears away with - not the only people, but still, the ones she’d be most comfortable calling friends. One was literally a chunk of plastic, but the smartest Minkowski had ever met. The other was actively adding extra salt to his pizza. 

She sighed. “You’re right. I would.”


End file.
